


Anger was better

by Janusa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Katsuki Yuuri-centric, M/M, Minor Character(s), Pre-Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janusa/pseuds/Janusa
Summary: Yuuri's theme for the new season isangerand more than one is surprised.“It’s just skating.”It's a stupid excuse, even to his own ears.“It’s never just that, not for us.” says Viktor.--Canon Divergence where the banquet did happen but Yuuri didn't quit.





	Anger was better

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my folder for about a year. I wrote it for the Namida Zine but now I'm free to post it so here it is. I hope you like it   
Two things before we start.  
-this is a canon divergence where the banquet did happen but Yuuri didn't go home or quit skating.  
-Yuuri is not in the best place emotional or mentally but he tries to fool himself he's by deflecting it and focusing on skating.

#  Anger was...

better than tears

better than grief

better than guilt

George R. R. Martin

#  ↞↠

  
  


“And now, Katsuki Yuuri’s theme for the new skating season is…” says Morooka, drawing the last word to add some dramatism to the moment.

Yuuri turns the small whiteboard to the press and cameras present in the room. 

_ Anger.  _

Yes, because Yuuri is tired and angry.

#  ↞↠

Anger is a controversial theme for someone like Yuuri.  _ Longing, determination, hope _ , those are the kind of themes that suit him better but screw that. Yuuri is tired, so utterly tired, and more than tired he’s angry. Yuuri is angry because he’s twenty-three and feels like he’s been left behind. A ‘late bloomer’ like some tabloids call him, that is again stuck or a skater that reached his peak in junior as others so kindly put it. Angry because he’s a competitive skater that doesn’t win competences anymore, not the ones that matter. 

Yuuri has had enough of feeling helpless, powerless, defeated. He knows his anxiety is not something he can make go away simply by deciding to do it, everything would be so much easier if that was the case. Still, he tries.

Every time he feels like his chest is too tight he remembers why is he doing this. On some good days, that is enough to ground him and delay the breakdown until he is in the privacy of his bedroom.

Yuuri has never had an epiphany nor is sure if he believes in them but almost seems like the fiasco at the Grand Prix is that. He has a resolve he hasn’t had before and if Yuuri is known for something —besides his self-esteem issues and anxiety— is for being stubborn. 

This will be his season because it feels like if he can’t make things work now he never will. Yuuri involves more than ever in his programs, Celestino is reticent at first but Yuuri has made up his mind and his coach knows he can’t do anything about it. Yuuri would dare to think Celestino is a bit pleased about that.

So Yuuri co-choreographs his programs along with Celestino, chooses his music for the first time ever and designs —even if a little roughly— his customes with help of Phichit. All this gives him a vague sense of control he hasn’t felt before and at the same time adds a different kind of pressure over him.

Yuuri  _ must  _ win this season, it’s not only a question of pride but also economy; he’s in red numbers. Since he placed fifth, he got almost nothing of the money prize. Fortunately, Yuuri is previsive and had some savings but it’s not nearly enough to cost an whole season of ice skating. 

Now, this may be a surprise for absolutely no one but figure skating is expensive as fuck. At least now Yuuri is out of college and with a major in dance so he gets a job as instructor in the dance academy of one of his teachers. It helps to pay the bills and he’s probably in his best shape ever as well as the most exhausted he’s ever been. 

Celestino tells him not to worry about his fees until he wins at one of the big competitions. Yuuri refuses, Celestino is not a coach simply for the love of art. Yuuri barely makes it but he  _ does  _ make it. He has a goal and motivation.

It’s one of those few literal cases of ‘go big or go home’ because if Yuuri does not win, he only has two options; leave skating or take his family to bankruptcy, so there is not option at all.

#  ↞↠

Yuuri classifies to the Grand Prix Final and he won’t blow things up this time. There is nothing to lose —in a way—, no one is expecting anything from him and it would be a feat for him to do worse than last year.

His anxiety never goes away but sometimes he's angrier than he's anxious. Other days, he can't tell what he feels; anger, frustration that morphs into self-doubt, fear and faster than Yuuri can think to calm down his world is spiraling and his whole-life partner is right there, ready to throw him into a void.

#  ↞↠

Yuuri’s programs are strong but he needs to nail them if he wants to have a chance to the podium. His jumps have never been his forte when it comes to landing them in competition but if only Yuuri can get them, for this one time… 

He wins silver.

Even when he had come with the podium in his mind, he can’t fully grasp that this,  _ this _ is a reality.

When it finally hits him, along with the flashes of cameras, that this is in fact happening and that he’s standing in that podium it turns out to be very different than he had imagined. 

Viktor is still in the highest point of the podium, as he has been for the past six years. He’s not looking at Yuuri, suddenly recognizing him and acknowledging him as his equal. 

No, Viktor is staring to the front, right to the cameras and giving them his best smile. Yuuri realizes that from up close, it looks kind of forced; too wide, too stiff, and there’s a slight twitch at the corners of Viktor’s mouth. But it’s not like Yuuri actually knows him so he can only speculate.

Another thing that is different from what he had imagined is Yuuri himself. He always thought that he would feel accomplished, once he got to be in the top three at a competition like the GPF or Worlds but the truth is that Yuuri feels like he could have done better. 

And this time is not his self-doubt talking —or at least that what he tells himself — Yuuri knows his limits and he can push them further. So, instead of thinking  _ I finally got to skate in the same ice as Viktor,  _ or  _ I’m finally catching him up,  _ the only thought that comes to his mind is;  _ next year will be gold. _

What he tries not to think about is how there is not happiness in his triumph, just a vague sense of pride and mostly relief.

#  ↞↠

It’s only until the banquet that Yuuri’s mind is clear enough to think in anything besides skating. Sara texts him to let him know they are waiting for him so Yuuri hurries to get dressed and leaves his room.

All the skaters, coaches and some ISU representatives are there, as well as a couple of possible sponsors that are hovering over Viktor. They’ll try to put their brand on whoever is the carrier of the gold that season and wif they can’t get it then they’ll move on to silver, that’s how it works. Yuuri knows all that, in theory, and feels overwhelmed when it’s his turn to talk to sponsors. Celestino does all the talking, Yuuri simply nods or shakes his head, throwing some acknowledgement sound when he considers it necessary.

As soon as he has the opportunity, Yuuri goes straight to his group of friends, leaving Celestino talking to other coaches in a corner of the room. 

The group is formed by Sara, Mickey, Phichit, Chris, Mila Babicheva and, surprisingly, the Russian Yuri. As soon as they spot him, Mickey steps in front of Sara, gaining a roll of her eyes and Phichit jumps to hug him while Chris offers him a flute of champagne.

“Next year, when I debut in seniors I'll sweep the floor with all your old asses!” screams the Russian Yuuri as if he had been waiting for Yuri just to arrive to do it. Maybe he did, he likes to scream at him, after all.

Yuuri doesn't doubt his words, the boy is incredible, already better than many in the senior division, his gold medal from juniors more than a pretty accessory.

“I'm looking forward to it, little Yuri.” Chris tells him with a condescending smile that only seems to fuel Yuri's fire.

His friends try to get him drunk, offering flute after flute but Yuuri declines most of their offers. He can’t remember more than ten minutes from last year’s banquet and he doesn’t want to, he’s ridiculous and shameless when he is intoxicated.

“Katsuki Yuuri.” says a voice behind him that Yuuri recognizes in an instant.

How could he not? He has listened to it in a hundred, maybe even thousands of times in interviews or every piece of media he could get his hands on. Still, there is something strange about it, maybe is his name, the vocals prolonged more than necessary, the forced softness of the  _ r _ or could be just that it sounds so different from his fantasies. In his fantasies Viktor’s voice was always full of admiration and, in the most recent years _ ,  _ low and seductive, like in that perfume’s add he appeared after he won the Olympics. But that’s not how Viktor sounds, he sounds and looks collected, incredibly elegant in his three piece suit that must be of some big designer while Yuuri is using the same suit he wore for his graduation, a college’s friend’s wedding and every important event since he bought it.

“Viktor Nikiforov.” Yuuri says a greeting.

Viktor doesn't make an attempt to introduce himself and, honestly, Yuuri couldn't think why he would if everybody in this room knows him. Despite that, he would have expected some of the usual questions between two persons that just met like  _ are you enjoying the night?  _ or some comment like  _ congratulations on your winning, _ not: “Why are you so angry, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri looks at him, more startled than confused. “Who says I’m angry?”

“Your short and free program.”

There's a familiarity in Viktor's treat that's unsettling, he acts as if he knew Yuuri and were old friends, asking each other about their dreams and aspirations in life.

It's confusing, but Yuuri can't help of thinking in his response.

_ Because being angry is better than crying alone in the stall of a public bathroom, better than being screamed at and diminished by a bratty teenager or being mistook for a fan instead of a competitor by your idol. Is better than grieving for Vicchan, who I abandoned for five years to follow a dream I haven't accomplished yet. It is better than the guilt I feel every single time I talk to my parents, Mari, Minako —all those people who have supported me since the beginning of my career and I haven’t been able to repay even a bit of how much they have given me. Because being angry is better than hurting. _

But because Yuuri can't say that, especially not to someone he just met and that also happens to be his childhood (and whole life) idol, he answers instead:

“It’s just skating.”

It's a stupid excuse, even to his own ears.

“It’s never just that, not for us.” says Viktor looking at him over the rim of his flute as he sips it. 

His eyes are different than in posters and magazines; less blue, less bright, normal. They are the most beautiful eyes Yuuri has ever seen. 

“Then, does it mean you’re in love?” asks Yuuri in return, defensive and finding that he doesn't feel nervous talking to Viktor, not more than he'd feel talking to any other fellow competitor.

Viktor's programs;  _ On Love: Eros  _ and  _ On Love: Agape  _ were sublime performances, like they always are.

“Not yet,” Viktor answers, all his body angled on Yuuri’s direction as if there wasn’t anyone or anything in the room more interesting than him “but I think I could be.”

The cryptic response tells nothing to Yuuri. He wonders for a moment if Viktor is trying to make fun of him, that is his line of thought when Viktor invites him to dance and Yuuri can't say no despite myriad of thoughts that threaten to overwhelm him.

They don't talk, just dance and it's surprising how well they fit together, at least as dance partners. 

Yuuri thinks about last year, of where he was back then and where he's tonight. Life is changing and he's changing too. The prospect is terrifying but also exciting. 

He knows there's something missing, something he has yet to find. Something more than a medal, something different than his idol's validation. Yuuri still doesn't know what that  _ something  _ that will drive him after the anger eventually is gone is —because he knows it will fade, he can feel it now, more tame— but he'll get there, however long it takes. But tonight? Tonight Yuuri is going to enjoy the moment and let go for once. He won it, literally. 


End file.
